


Viva La Vida

by callmesigyn



Category: Gods Of Olympus (Original Work), Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Viva La Vida - Coldplay
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Death (mention), Crossover Pairings, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Grief/Mourning, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired by Music, Krennic Is A King, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Pagan Gods, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post-Betrayal, Revolution, Suicidal Thoughts, Tarkin Is A Traitor, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmesigyn/pseuds/callmesigyn
Summary: A golden king faced a revolution and is now trying to survive through the chaos and treason amidst those who once were his allies. Beyond that, he mourns the precious porcelain queen that was taken from him.Revolution AU





	Viva La Vida

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, this Persephone is actually a character in a book I'm writing and I just thought: "Why not ship her with Krennic?". Ah, writing fanfiction of your own original work...
> 
> I hate myself.
> 
> It's rated the way it is for swearing and other things I've stated in the tags.  
> You don't really need to read my book to know Persephone, since is a retelling of the original Greek myth and the book is not done ehehe. Also, I was heavily inspired by Coldplay's song "Viva La Vida", so I recommend you check that one out. Enjoy!

_I used to rule the world_

 

Sprawled, though subtly, gallantly so on my golden throne. Sitting high on top of gilded stairs and black and white pillars. White for me, black for _her_. Marble streaked with gold and silver, just like our veins once were.

Decades ago, by some moronic twist of fate, I had become the King of Lexrul at a very young age. It was an industrial planet, not the same as the likes of Coruscant, though. Smaller, more traditional.

 

_Seas would rise when I gave the word_

 

One word. One word was all it took. One work and everyone would kneel at my feet. The men looking to gain favours, the women (not necessarily the unmarried ones) looking to gain the seat besides mine. Not her though. Never her. One word was never enough for her.

She was the type of woman that wished to be given the world. A word could never be enough to satisfy her. She wanted books I had to bind myself, she wanted poetry I had written myself, she wanted a genuine smile to grace my face, she wanted the sun and stars to greet her at each day, she wanted the moon to bathe her at every night in which she couldn't sleep. And she wanted me to do it all for her, just to see if I would. She wanted to see me bend (or break) at her will. She sought for the weakness in my eyes and gleamed at the fact that she was the one to cause it.

 

_Now in the morning, I sleep alone_

_Sweep the streets I used to own_

 

In this lonely days and nights, I still remember waking up in the morning to see a pair of beautiful azure eyes. Gazing at me, tormenting my soul, making me a better king. A better  _man._

"Good morning", she would say, knowing that every morning we could ever spend together was promised for greatness. She knew it. Of course she did. The way she used to look at me with a smug glint in those beautiful blue eyes told me so.

By the gods, I miss those eyes.

 

_I used to roll the dice_

_Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes_

 

I could practically hear the freightened sounds at court. The inevitable gulps, how they used to almost choke in their own saliva, the nervousness of their cleared throats, the constant flinching at every move I made. Fear.  _Glorious fear_... I was feared, just like a ruler should be.

 

_Listened as the crowd would sing_

_Now the old king is dead, long live the king_

 

I was young when I received word of my father's passing. Young and foolish, barely twenty-three. In a thoughtless act, I married a noble woman by the name of Aryn Monaghan. Her father was the Duke of a nearby moon and a friend of Chancellor Palpatine. I married the girl in hopes of getting into the Chancellor's elite group of friends and into his good graces. With the Clone Wars over, it was time for my planet to return to the Republic Senate. My father, the former king, had unfortunately chosen to ally himself and Lexrul to the Separatists, but that plan had failed once they were captured and brought to justice. The justice for my father, however, had been the death penalty and since then, I had been forced to lead.

Not that I minded.

I loved it.

 

_One minute I held the key_

 

About a year after I married Aryn, she died in childbirth. I was crushed. I did not love her, per say, but having your first son and heir die along with its mother is something I wouldn't wish upon anyone... _Maybe Tarkin_.

After that, I spent two decades in solitude. Alone, just as I enjoyed it.

Until there came a day when a spaceship crash landed on my castle grounds. I went outside to see if anyone or anything had survived when, out of the blue, the rusty shuttle door opened with difficulty and out of it emerged a creature.

But not just any creature, no. A  _woman_.

A beautiful, enchanting sorceress-like woman. She had incredibily long white hair, but she wasn't old. Oh, she wasn't old at all. She was a fantastic and youthful vision of ruby red lips, dantily curvaceous figure and golden skin.

It was as if a spell had been cast on me. That... Siren had enchanted me with her foxy ocean eyes and alluring nature. She called herself Persephone and asked for me to come closer. A Goddess standing right in front of me, in the flesh. And just like that, I was trapped between my duty and my lust, between the sword and the heart. But no matter who she was or claimed to be, I knew I had to make her my queen.

 

_Next the walls were closed on me_

 

The Rebellion broke out. Inspired by the ideals of the Rebel Alliance, the traitors and chance-grabbers decided to throw me and my family dynasty under the rug. They called my then new wife a , a whore, a gold digger and so on. Not knowing a thing about her, yet they dismissed her for their own personal gain. But Persephone wasn't scared. She had delt with it all before, it seemed.

 

_And I discovered that my castles stand_

_Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand_

 

She was poised, with an air of elegance and eloquence about her. When it all fell apart, she was there for me. The siege of our castle, the destruction of the statue of me that I had built in my honour, the exile, the escape, the bounty on my head, the mean nicknames, the sick jokes and acts of treachery, the scum of my former advisor who now sits on my throne. Wilhuff Tarkin, _urgh_.

He had been my father's royal vizier and despite never liking me (and likewise), he had been the vizier for my entire reign. Although hating his guts, he had proven his loyalty to my father and I thought that I could count on him to lay his loyalty on me as well. Never mind saying his betrayal still stungs. But Persephone was there for me and that's really all that mattered.

 

_I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing_

_Roman cavalry choirs are singing_

_Be my mirror, my sword and shield_

 

She was like an anchor to me, keeping me grounded throughout all this madness.

 

_My missionaries in a foreign field_

_For some reason I can't explain_

_Once you'd gone there was never_

_Never an honest word_

_And that's when I ruled the world_

 

_It was a wicked and wild wind_

_Blew down the doors to let me in_

_Shattered windows and the sound of drums_

_People couldn't believe what I'd become_

 

Just a shallow version of my former self, of the man I once was. It's sad, really. I used to have everything and now all I've got is a wounded pride and a whole in my chest.

I miss her.

I miss her so fucking much...

 

_Revolutionaries wait_

_For my head on a silver plate_

 

Even when we were forced ro move constantly to avoid the bounty hunters Tarkin and his new friend, Palpatine, had hired to assassinate me. She stood by me. She always did and I suppose that was her downfall.

 

_Just a puppet on a lonely string_

_Oh, who would ever want to be king?_

_I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing_

_Roman cavalry choirs are singing_

_Be my mirror, my sword and shield_

_My missionaries in a foreign field_

 

_For some reason I can't explain_

_I know St. Peter won't call my name_

_Never an honest word_

 

Now what do I have? Inside this decaying hut with some mere, simple articles of clothing, an old modelled blaster to keep me safe from harm if anyone ever finds me, a bloody handkerchief in my back pocket and enough bottles of whiskey to last me a lifetime.

My whole body feels sore and my head pounds, heavy as if I had taken a beating but I know it's just a hangover. Or maybe I had taken a beating, I don't remember anything anymore. It helps, I guess. That way I can't remember her eyes, her smile... I can pretend she hadn't been taken from me by a lucky bounty hunter, at least for a while.

It's difficult, though. It's _fucking_ difficult. When I wake up and realise she's not here to gaze at me with her all-knowing look and her good mornings, I feel like I can't breathe. In a sudden impulse to take my blaster and end my misery invades my brain, but no. _I can't_. I must go on living. For _her_. I promised I would...

Insignificant. Alone. Pathetic.

 

_But that was when I ruled the world._


End file.
